


Catch and Release

by StillGlorious



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:30:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillGlorious/pseuds/StillGlorious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl struggles with the loss of Beth and unwanted growing feelings. Just a simple fuck-my-pain-away slash story<br/>Short, Slash, Sorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch and Release

**Author's Note:**

> Currently watching too much of The Walking Dead and so this happened. Enjoy.

Contrary to some beliefs, Daryl Dixon is not a dumb fool when it comes to universally significant issues. He knew the world was done on a global level when he watched the first news report about an outbreak. Merle took a bit more convincing, but once he witnessed how his recently deceased friend, Bob, attempted to eat the neighbor, he joined the Apocalypse train to nowhere. Daryl is not a fool. He has seen far too much death and violence ever since that first headline. Only fools believe in salvation;Daryl believes all these fools already died.

He is more of a watcher than a talker because communicating is a skill he couldn’t learn in the woods. It takes effort and he always seems to struggle for words. Mostly, he just utters one word sentences and keeps all meaningful thoughts buried under a cloak of brooding coolness. It suits him well and helps to avoid emotional conflicts. This is one personality trait not even the end of the world has been able to change. Every time he even so much considers opening up, bad things happen. A little girl gets turned in to a walking corpse, a Farm is overrun by a Horde, Prison fences get crashed by a tank, a perfect human being gets beheaded by an evil villain and now Beth is dead too.

Death happens routinely. It viciously claimed Beth. She has become yet another fallen comrade and Daryl doesn't get why this should be discussed. It's a simple fact. It's not the first time and it sure as hell won’t be the last time. Sooner or later this outbreak will claim all of them. He’s still surviving because by now it is about the only thing he has become really good at. He just might end up the last man standing as Beth, cute, innocent, annoying Beth, once predicted after drinking too much moonshine. The girl is dead now. Her cuteness, her innocence and her annoyance are all gone. Ripped from this broken world violently because nobody dies peacefully anymore. There's really no point in talking about feelings just about now.

“...” he mumbles therefore and looks down, trying to ignore Carol’s soft voice.

“If you want to talk, I'm here,” she offers once again and reaches him where he doesn't want to be reached right now.

He swallows hard and shakes his head: “I'm fine,” he lies poorly and adds, “I'm on watch.”

With that he leaves the two story home plus attic that they had chosen for the night. It's not safe but it's safer than other places. Nothing is safe these days. In a matter of seconds every potential safe haven can be assaulted by violence and death. It doesn't matter if it's a shack in the woods or a prison safe guarded by iron fences.

Daryl steps out in to the chilling night and inhales deeply. He soaks up the fresh, cold air and sighs. The others might feel safer inside but he prefers trees rather than brick walls. He has become used to the Dead lurking in the shadows. At least the Dead seem even less capable when it comes to communication. They usually just slurp, grunt, and strive to eat you. Nonetheless, the Walkers are far easier to handle than the living.

Daryl likes keeping watch. He likes to be alone, outside, and awake. He is used to only a few hours of sleep if there is even a chance for that. Surviving this long has trained him. His body is robust, muscly and in a state of constant awareness. At the first sign of trouble one arm would automatically aim the crossbow while the other would reach for the arrow and his eyes would narrow on the target. He turned in to a well-oiled machine, always ready to kill or to run, depending on the number of attackers. Daryl is well adjusted to the apocalyptic circumstances of his life.

Nevertheless, when it comes to emotions, Daryl still feels as inadequate as before the Big Bang. It took moonshine and his drunk mean self to open up to Beth and he still kept things from her. However, it did feel good to open up a little. The idea of letting someone in had felt good. In retrospect it was all a big step for absolutely nothing because she is now very much dead.

“Everything OK?”

The words startle him but he shakes it off quickly. It's Rick stepping out behind him, scanning the dark shadows for possible threats before relaxing slightly when there is nothing suspicious.

“Yeah.”

Daryl replies somewhat indifferent because he really wants to avoid a whole conversation. However, Rick doesn't go back inside but stays next to him silently. The former Sheriff isn't a man of words either but he is obviously hurting. It shows in his expression and the sound of his voice. He sounds incredibly tired. They all lost someone close. Beth's death is a dire loss to the entire group and Daryl knows that Rick wonders how much this family is able to take.

“It never ends, does it?” Rick asks not expecting an answer.

“Maybe one day, though, when all them dead fuckers are wasted to dust,” Daryl says in a dark, rattled voice and instantly regrets his words. Not only do they suggest that he might be one of those idiots with hope but they also sounded dumb and sulking. He hates sounding overly dramatic when it's about facts. One of them died, many more will follow. Apocalypse arrived with a set of very simply rules.

“Maybe,” Rick nods, looking down with his hands in his pockets. There used to be more hope in Rick's voice. There used to be more purpose. It has faded. Sometimes Daryl misses that hope.

“It's not your fault,” Daryl expresses carefully, “what happened to Beth. It wasn't your fault.”

“I know,” Rick sighs and looks up in to the sky, “I know.”

For a while they stand there quietly. Rick looking up at the night sky and Daryl looking straight ahead in to the woods. It makes Daryl a little uncomfortable. Mostly, because lately he struggles with confusing emotions whenever Rick stands close to him. He usually shrugs them off but it is getting harder to ignore whatever is growing inside him. Desire never let to good things in Daryl's life.

Rick just has this aura. This very intense and sometimes sinister aura. Daryl has seen the darker side of the Hero a couple of times by now. Has seen what happens when the Beast is unleashed. Untamed, wild, and unforgiving. Thing is, and that is actually Daryl's Problem, he fears and adores this dark side in rather strange ways and he very much wants to keep this twisted adoration to himself.

“It's not your fault either,” Rick says suddenly in a tender voice and touches Daryl's shoulder.

“I lost her though,” Daryl replies and shakes the undeserving gesture off. He feels a sudden sting inside his stomach and tries to shake off the growing guilt as well. It isn't working. After all he did lose her and he will not be able to forgive himself for that.

Rick only places his hand on the younger man's shoulder again and squeezes it. It's all he does but it affects Daryl deeply. It doesn't heal any wounds. It doesn't take away guilt or pain but it is still soothing. He can't help but leaning his cheek against the comforting hand. It is something that comes without thinking and when he becomes aware of it he pulls away quickly. He looks down, blushing heavily and trying to shake off unwanted feelings.

“You should go sleep,” he suggests in a trembling voice, wishing badly for Rick to leave. He isn't ready for such a moment. Not tonight, preferably not ever. Nonetheless, he can still feel the warmth of Rick's skin on his cheeks like an imprint. Highly embarrassed he fumbles out one of his last cigarettes, lights it and smokes out almost angrily.

“Daryl, I didn't ...” Rick tries but appears to strive for the right words.

Daryl dreads those words. He doesn't want pity, understanding or worse tolerance. He can't take any of those. Not from Rick and not now. As desperate as he feels he is completely frozen in motion. He can't move a muscle but stands there staring at the ground with determination.

“Do you feel lonely, Daryl?”

“What?” He hasn't expected those words. Not at all.

“I feel lonely sometimes. Hell, sometimes I walk along side all of you but I feel so alone. Do you feel alone sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Daryl admits stunned by the situation. He calms down. “I do.”

“Sometimes I think it's not just Lori but the touch itself. The feeling of being touched. Or the sensation of touching warm, alive skin. Just being close to somebody, you know? To _feel_ them. I miss that, Daryl. Do you?”

Daryl swallows before he lifts his head and locks eyes with Rick. He wants to say so many things. His mind has them all laid out like a diary but no word comes out. Nothing. He nods slowly, aware that his cheeks are burning up. Rick steps forward and leans in. For a second Daryl doesn't know what to do and then he becomes aware of lips pressed against his own. He opens them and falls in to the kiss like a drunk devouring his last drop of whiskey. When Rick lets him go, Daryl's head is still spinning.

“I'm in the bedroom in the attic,” Rick finally says, “find me when your shift is over.”

Two hours Daryl contemplates whether to follow his heart or rather his dick or not. He reflects on his life, remembers all the shame. Every forbidden thought comes back with a vengeance and he can almost feel how badly people tried to beat those thoughts out of his mind. Granted, it has worked up until the Apocalypse.

Two times he has let desire dictate his steps and twice he has ended up in a hospital. One time he did the beating. Merle was with him that day and they beaten this young boy with a rage fueled by shame and hatred. Not once, since the whole world turned in to a graveyard, has Daryl allowed himself to feel anything in this regard. Up until he left the group to be with Merle. The feeling of loss had overwhelmed him back then. He missed Rick a lot more than he should. Beth almost had him confessing. Almost.

It took him more than half of the time to finally reach a moment of clarity. Every single person who would condemn him for these thoughts is dead. His father is dead. His mother is dead. Merle’s dead. All the redneck psychos from his childhood, all the judges, guards, and victims of his former wickedness, all of them are dead. There is no one left to judge him.

When Maggie relieves him from his duty he walks up the stairs. Every step is a question mark. He tries to focus. Tries to justify whatever decisions he is about to make. It dawns on him, the closer he gets, that he is horny. He can't remember the last time he has felt like this. It seems such a long time ago. Forgotten emotions from a forgotten world that is never coming back. He becomes aware of his heartbeat. Not because a Walker is nearby, not because death is on the hunt again but because of the prospect of a touch.

He doesn't knock but steps in. Rick is alone, sitting on a small one person bed. He's wearing a shirt and boxers. Dirty as everything they own. The candlelight is dim. It makes the first step a little easier. Daryl enters and leans his crossbow against the wall in the corner. He takes off his leather vest and denim jacket. There are no words spoken between them. Words, Daryl fears, might ruin everything.

Finally, he dares lifting his head and looks at Rick who has watched him silently. Now, he stands up and approaches him. The moment is weird and Daryl is highly aware of an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. He feels like fleeing and takes a step back like all of this is a very bad idea but Rick firmly seizes his wrists and drags him closer. They kiss again. Soaking up the taste and disregarding all doubts he might have had Daryl gives in, sinks a bit to his knees while Rick embraces him. When they let go, Rick is breathing harder. His eyes narrow as he almost growls:

“I need this,” he urges and leans his forehead against Daryl chest. “I need this, Daryl.”

Rick's voice is filled with heartache. It's filled with deep rooting sorrow. It dawns on Daryl that this isn't what he expected. This is fate, he thinks overwhelmed by a complete understanding. Catch and release. It is as easy as that. No more doubts, no more complications, no more wondering what this rotten world might think. Rick needs something that right now only Daryl is able to provide.

“I'm here.”

“You don't understand,” Rick sobs and lets go.

“I can take it...”

It wasn't a knockout punch, but it makes Daryl striving for balance. He instantly tastes blood from the blow that cracked his lip. He doesn't retaliate but stares at Rick licking the blood away. The gesture ignites the beast in Rick who goes from aroused to insanely horny in a millisecond like a feral animal sighting a mate in the wild. In a fierce attack he lashes out violently, barely granting Daryl a moment to take a breath. Daryl is yanked close and shoved back, beaten, groped, tangled, slapped, kicked. It doesn't take long to turn in to an intimate salacious dance of lechery.

“Rick,” he whispers now entirely devoted to whatever is about to happen. _Rick, Rick, Rick._ He can't cease his lips from uttering the name. _Rick, Rick, Rick._ Temperature is rising. The Atmosphere is charged up by steamy respiration. Daryl cries out when Rick bites him in the neck. It doesn't hurt. It feels spectacular. He becomes aware of Rick's commanding hands crawling all over him, ripping off shirt, while intensifying the kiss. His skin reacts irritated by Rick's beard, which increases his arousal sensationally. His pulse quickens. He soaks up the scent. Musk, manly, dirty. _Rick, Rick, Rick._

The devil has awakened. Daryl can see him behind elated eyes. He can see the hunger, the lust. His eyes flutter close by the sensations of Rick's fingers exploring his body. He is rendered defenseless by desire. Hot breath skimming his skin, lips ravenously sucking on his nipples while roused hands roam over his chest, fingers clawing in to his skin. In the back of his head, Daryl forms the word stop but his bodily functions disregard it as absurd and act in opposite. _More. Go Further._

'Nothing', Daryl realizes in a mixture of fear and excitement when Rick stops for a moment to look at him, 'is going to stop him now'. Instinctively, he lifts his hand in protection but also licks his lips fervently. Rick smiles at him, his chest heaving with labored breathing. His hand suddenly reaches for Daryl, pulling him close in to another ferocious kiss. _Rick, Rick, Rick._

Rick groans hungrily while ripping rampantly on Daryl's pants until they finally fall. He halts for a short moment and licks his lips triumphantly. Their eyes lock. Things become very simple. Nothing seems complicated anymore. Guided by a natural and very primal instinct, Rick turns Daryl around and pulls him close. Daryl can feel the throbbing cock pressing against his spine. It feels like a delicious declaration of war. He becomes aware of his nakedness all of the sudden, feels the air between his thighs. He closes his eyes when Rick pushes him down.

Everything becomes a blur to Daryl who surrenders on his hands and knees. A moan escapes his lungs when he senses tugging hands on his hips. Suddenly, he can't keep one thought steady. His blood boils with excitement. He has never felt so fiercely turned on, tremblingly craving to be split apart. His heart jumps when he hears Rick spitting and he flinches when he feels hand and fingers massaging saliva around his asshole.

He shakes when he feels Rick's cock pushing against his opening. The penetration comes hard and grave. There's no romance left. It's all about catch and release. It's not about the pain he feels as the hard wooden floor scrapes his knees. It's not about the shock that shuddered through his entire body when Rick thrusts in to him. The thrusts are merciless and wild. It's all about the thrill. The harder his ass is raped by this cock, the more erect his own cock becomes. The sensations take over every inch of his withering body. _Rick, Rick, Rick_ , he thinks unable to form any other sounds than groaning in ecstasy as Rick bore downs harder, faster, heavier in desperately horny thrusts. Their bodies are completely covered in moist. Sweat drops down from Rick's long hair trails down his beard. The drops drip down on Daryl's back while skin collides with skin. Faster. Harder. He closes his eyes and lets everything go.

Rick cries out hoarsely when he comes. His dick quivering fiercely swallowed up deep inside Daryl. He gasps viciously feeling his cum discharging in to the shuddering, constricting body beneath him. His eyes fixed on the bending spine. Daryl is rocked by tears when he breaks down away from the Devil who can finally see.

The Devil who notices blood and shit and dirt. In between all of that, Daryl crawls up on the floor like a newborn baby. Rattled by sorrow and satisfaction. Slowly, Rick sinks down next to him and wraps his arms around him from behind. Tenderly he pulls him around, kisses him. One time, three times, a hundred times but gently. Daryl lifts his eyes as if he has just woken up from a dream. His body is still shaking from this climax. It had hit him so violently that he almost couldn't bare it.

However, now, he felt warmth. It hit him equally heavy than the sexual release before. He feels Rick pulling him closer in an embrace, whispering “I'm sorry,” over and over again. Daryl allows himself to cry. Tears tossing his body heavily but the embrace never loosened. The former eager lustful hands now stroke tenderly. Commanding arms now holding close. It's too much. Too deep. It's so far from what this was supposed to be. Catch and Release. He hasn't expected this kind of release.

End.

_I am lost in the darkness / Between two worlds and here I'm struggling / You're the light that I've been seeking / 'Cause my whole life there's been something missing_

_Only you / Can make me whole / Just one touch / and you complete me  
Only you / Can make me whole / Just one touch / And you complete me _

_Rescue me from this black hole / That sucked me in and left my dying / You're the truth that I've been seeking / 'Cause my whole life I've been lying_

_Only you / Can make me whole / Just one touch / and you complete me  
Only you / Can make me whole / Just one touch / And you complete me_

_God I pray you find me worthy / Of the right to stand beside you / And of your truth and of your passion / Of the right to sleep beside you_


End file.
